


It never gets easier (you just get faster)

by MrsWinterBreath



Category: Avengers, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Parent Tony Stark, Post-Endgame, Sad, like so so much, melancholic, morgan misses Tony, you will likely cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 11:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20388727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsWinterBreath/pseuds/MrsWinterBreath
Summary: Tony teaches Morgan how to ride a bike for the first time: a common father-daughter moment that becomes an aching memory for Morgan, now that her dad is gone.“It was fun, I still remember it. The stinging sun on my arms left bare by the short sleeves. The brief breeze caused by my speed on that bike. My hair pushed back by the wind blowing in my face.I started laughing out loud and I heard you cackling too behind me.“You can do it, you can do it!”, you were screaming. Was it really like flying in one of your suit, dad? Was it? I remember I closed my eyes just for an instant and I actually thought I was up in the sky, flying among the clouds with you by my side.”





	It never gets easier (you just get faster)

I can still recall it, you know? That time you taught me how to ride a bike. You woke up all giddy and witty with both me and mom. Every time you were that happy I knew something funny was about to happen, so I remember I couldn’t wait for you to tell me what mission we were about to have that day.  
“Morgan”, you called me “ready for your new task?” I made a determined face while stating that I was always, under any circumstance, ready. You giggled, dad, and ordered to go put on my helmet while mum was already complaining about the fact you shouldn’t let me borrow your stuff. But once I was pacing my way through your lab, you called me back.  
“Uh uh little miss, that is _not_ the helmet I was talking about”.  
You had given me a red bike helmet a year before, for Christmas, by announcing that you were going to teach me how to ride a bike, and I still remember how mum stated that I was way too young. You did not agree: you kept on repeating that your daughter was not too young for anything and while I pretended to be offended by mum’s warning, I silently thanked her for stopping you. The idea of getting on those things terrified me, but you looked so proud while flattering me that I hadn’t had the heart to let you down.  
But a year later I couldn’t escape that, so we both made a face to mum because the due date had expired, and on our way through the yard I kept looking in the direction of the front porch hoping she would come rescue me.  
Meanwhile you were still hyping me up with that grin of yours “the truth is mum does not think you can make it. I, on the other side, am convinced you are a child prodigy and we will shove it in her face”. You made me stand in front of a red and golden bike, painted with my favorite colours.  
Then you lowered yourself until your eyes met mine, and while grabbing me by my arms you told me not to be afraid, that the two basic rules were to always look right in front on me and not to ever look behind. Years later, whenever I think about those sentences, I find them quite odd: it almost looks like you were giving me a life lesson.  
I was really scared, you know? I didn’t tell you because I had never been weak, with you. You had always told me I was your warrior, a superhero. Whenever I stole one of your gauntlets you couldn’t help but subtly smile telling me that one day I would put on a armour of yours, too. “But don’t tell mum!”, you always whispered.  
“You must keep the handlebars straight, don’t swing it, you got me?”, you warned me, while you were covering my hands with yours so that the handlebars didn’t move.  
Then you made me put my feet on the treadles, and even if I was tottering I didn’t say anything, once again.  
I was scared, you know? Of this too, of my feet lifted from the ground and laid on two unstable platforms. But you were there with me, so again I did not want to disappoint you. “Is it like when you’re flying?” I asked you nervously. You nodded “It’s better”.  
You were so proud, you couldn’t wait to back off so that you could follow me from behind. You kept telling me I was going to love it. Then you made me wear the red helmet; you checked its strap to be well secured and then you rang the bell two or three times, just to be sure it worked fine. I can still recall it, you know? How you put your hand on my back, and how you lowered your voice encouraging me to move my feet.  
I was really scared. I just wanted to get off that hellish thing and go back playing inside my tent, perhaps drawing and painting with mum. But I couldn’t, you were there and trembling to check my progresses, not even doubting for a second that I couldn’t make it, so I did it. Turn after turn, the bike came to life and my feet started to go around involuntarily.  
I didn’t even think about what I was doing, and I was afraid that if I had actually taken a moment to reflect about it I would have fallen to the ground, but your fingers were still pushing on my back and you were now running fast so that you could keep pace with me.  
It was fun, I still remember it. The stinging sun on my arms left bare by the short sleeves. The brief breeze caused by my speed on that bike. My hair pushed back by the wind blowing in my face.  
I started laughing out loud and I heard you cackling too behind me.  
“You can do it, you can do it!”, you were screaming. Was it really like flying in one of your suit, dad? Was it? I remember I closed my eyes just for an instant and I actually thought I was up in the sky, flying among the clouds with you by my side.  
Then I felt it, your fingers leaving my back, a pressing void weighing on my shoulders even though they were now free from your touch, a void that never left. I still recall it, you know? Your enthusiastic cheers because I had made it. Your festively clapping and your din to call mom so that she could see that I had made it, yes, I had made it. And then I heard you hyping me with mum, and I heard her laughing too, before you two kissing joyfully.  
But I was scared, you know? Because the view was breathtaking and I could indeed feel freedom on my own skin, but the absence of your fingers on my back was anguishing me.  
And it still does. I keep on repeating your rules. I keep on always looking right and not ever looking back. I keep on repeating myself that I will make it, like I did that time, that perhaps you’re flying somewhere among the clouds waiting for me.  
But your hand is not pushing on my back, and I am scared, you know?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
This is my first work here!  
I want to apologise for possible grammar mistakes: this is the first time I write something in English (it’s not my first language) so I’m really nervous about it! Let me know if I made some serious mistakes, I tried my best.  
Hope you liked the fic, leave a comment if you please!  
Thank you for reading, have a good day!!!
> 
> You can find me on twitter: @/winterbreath_


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